Borel rides the rail to his American dream

LOUISVILLE, Ky. — The skies cleared like magic, and so did a sliver of space along the rail.

Still, tender souls would have backed off.

There were 12 horses squeezing down on Street Sense, snorting and huffing, galloping and stretching on every stride at Churchill Downs.

But Calvin Borel, a Louisiana bayou boy who never made it out of eighth grade, started hearing the words his older brother, Cecil, always hammered into his head.

"It's the shortest way around the track," Borel said. "Take it to the rail."

It was a lesson Borel started learning at age 8, when he hopped aboard 2,000-pound quarter horses at so-called "bush tracks" down on the Louisiana bayou.

That's where Borel started dreaming of this kind of ray of light that would clear before him on the way to winning the 133rd Kentucky Derby.

He did all the tough grunt work back on the bayou. Borel mucked horse stalls, trotted thoroughbreds, galloped rich folks' prized possessions and did just about anything anyone asked of him around horse farms.

Always, he played make-believe that this moment someday would be real.

There's one thing Borel never did, however: learn how to read.

Borel, whose brave run to the rail in traffic gave Street Sense the roses, reluctantly talks about his struggles with illiteracy. He is embarrassed and frustrated, after trying futilely on several occasions to learn how to read, even as an adult.

But he acknowledges his shortcoming. He said he does not want youngsters to follow his footsteps.

Team Borel in spotlight

After realizing a dream that started 32 years ago on rough-dirt Louisiana tracks where ranchers bet against one another and rarely more than 100 fans showed up, Borel arrived to the post-race press conference Saturday with his fiancée, Lisa.

She sat nearby as Borel answered questions, offering comfort and security in case there was anything he needed to read.

But Borel never should be embarrassed again. The path from Cajun bayous to the Derby winner's circle may not have been an ideal one. It may not be one that poor stable boys and exercise riders should emulate.

But courage comes in various forms. Borel knew who he was Saturday evening when he nosed Street Sense toward the rail, believing a ray of light would allow him to fulfill a dream despite starting the race 19th among 20 horses.

No event in America reflects decadence, glamour — and crazy hope — quite like the Kentucky Derby. And so, why not here?

There was Borel, going around Hard Spun and thundering down the homestretch past Millionaire's Row to the cheers of some 156,635 fans, as the Queen of England and the glitziest celebrities watched, realizing an American dream.

"We don't have much education," Borel's older brother and mentor, Cecil, told reporters before Saturday's race. "And we're not proud of it. But we are proud of what we've done."

Borel cannot read. But that hardly means he is dumb.

That difference and the diligence Borel has showed over a 25-year-career that started on swampland, nearly was derailed by money-grubbing stars on the circuit. It ended with a wreath of roses around Borel's waist Saturday evening. Finally.

Too often before on his way to the winner's circle, Borel's dream was quashed as riding stars such as Pat Day, Jerry Bailey and Gary Stevens moved in. Owners called on the sure-thing jocks in big races, knocking Borel off contenders.

Every time Borel felt he had a chance, owners pulled his mount and gave it to "proven" jocks.

He was a proven rider, sure, and had won big races. But with the greatest stakes on the line, they wondered if Borel had what it took to ride at this level among the kings of the game.

He was rough around the edges. He laughed at how he got his nickname, "Boo."

The youngest of five boys, some 12 years younger than Cecil, Borel twangs in that Cajun tone, "I was a boo-boo."

His father, who taught Calvin to work hard and always point the horse's nose toward the break in the pack, died three years ago. The first face Borel saw in the winner's circle Saturday was brother's.

"Cecil told me, 'This one's for Dad,' and it is," Borel said. "From 8 years old, you wouldn't imagine something like this. It's always a jockey's dream, no matter who you are or where you're from."

Chance of a lifetime

One of the first "big" races Borel ever took came when he was 15 at an unsanctioned track outside of his hometown of St. Martinville, La. A couple of ranchers started bragging that they had the better horse. They bet $5,000.

Borel told the owner of one horse, "I'll win it for you."

And he did. He pointed the horse's nose toward the rail and rode hard, huffing, whistling and whipping the horse toward the finish line. He got paid $100.

Later, he started riding as many as 17 horses a week at Evangeline Downs, earning paltry paydays.

"I thought back then," Borel said, "that I'd never see another poor day in my life."

Now, he won't. This 40-year-old Louisiana bayou boy doesn't ever have to be proud that he cannot read.

But he should never be embarrassed. The American dream comes in all sorts of shapes, sizes. And twangs.